


A Blooming Romance

by MissOrilive



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval with Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blood Magic, Corruption, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Ryan Haywood, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Violence, King Geoff Ramsey, Knight Jeremy Dooley, Lies, Lonely Ryan Haywood, M/M, Mad King Ryan Haywood, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Poverty, Pregnancy, Wench Lindsay Tuggey Jones, Worker Michael Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissOrilive/pseuds/MissOrilive
Summary: Ryan is the powerful, but lonely King of the Southern Lands. His life is dull and filled with hatred until he meets the charming Sir Jeremy Dooley.But the knight takes an instant disliking to the Mad King.





	1. Hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: When re-reading this chapter I noticed that part of it apparently went missing. I put it back in. Sorry about that!

Ryan had always hated the bright Royal Palace with its large, cold rooms. It was a place where he felt lonely. Not that anyone knew that about him.

He was the powerful and strict king of the Southern Lands, after all. His build was tall with muscly limbs, and his soft blond hair made his appearance more otherworldly than approachable. His beauty struck many. His subjects saw him as a curt, angry aristocrat. Once, they gave him the title of a _Mad King_. That's the sort of man they saw in him.

After a few years of his reign, King Ryan saw his life going nowhere. Every day was either filled with lords and ladies falling over themselves to get into his favours, or him being subtly despised by rivals and envied by the men and women of the lesser nobility.

From time to time the monotony was broken by assassination attempts. Someone always ended up dying, and it never was him. Maybe it was his way of dealing with the attackers that made him a Mad King. But what was he to do? Either his servants and guards ended up taking care of the attackers before he even got to acknowledge the attempt or he had to deliver the killing strike himself to prevent himself from being killed. Never in particular did Ryan tell his household to kill intruders but still he ended up being called out for it since he was the king after all. His guards killed a simple thief, who snook into the kitchens? Just another victim at the hands of the Mad King. A murderer, send by those envious of him, got close enough to put their blades against his chest? The Mad King clearly could have found a way to stop the attack without killing the enemy

Then, as soon as the attempt at taking his life had been dealt with, the monotony returned, and everyone only remembered the fact that another one died under the reign of Mad King Ryan.

Sometimes Ryan questioned himself why he even insisted on staying king. There were enough willing candidates who would like to take his position after all. But whenever Ryan got caught up in such thoughts, most often in bed at night, he remembered that no other noble was worthy or capable enough to take care of his subjects.

After all, Ryan was not mad or cruel. In fact, the lands had never been richer nor healthier. Of course, some people still suffered from poverty, but Ryan made sure that even they never had to starve in the streets. His subjects revealed in their increasing wealth and comfortable lifestyles. Still, no one acknowledged that their king _was_ the one to keep order by using simple political and economic strategies. The blond, tall noble was blessed with a sharp mind since birth, and he knew how to use it.

So, Ryan did everything to keep his land safe and happy, yet, he still felt unfulfilled and unhappy. The sole thing giving him relief was his enjoyment in finding and observing unusual people. Enough strangers and bootlickers kept coming to the Royal Palace.

Even then no one held his attention for long until he met Sir Jeremy Dooley, a small, buff man with a passion for adventures and stories.

Ryan did take notice of the younger man as soon as he saw him for the first time. One would believe a man of such small build would get easily lost between crowds of nobility, but there was a fire inside Sir Dooley, that made it almost impossible for anyone to overlook him. Without ever having spoken to him once, Ryan was quickly taken by the smaller man. Despite lacking any real friends or honest advisors, the king still knew how to keep traitors or liars at bay. The power that had been flowing through his veins since the crown first touched his head, gave him the ability to enhance his senses, amongst others. Despite not uttering a single word towards anyone, the king was able to listen in on any conversation that was happening in his near vicinity. He hated political gatherings and feasts because wastefulness and blatancy disgusted him. Yet he still hosted regular feasts and balls, entirely so that he could keep himself updated on his rivals' and enemies' schemes and foul plays.

It was by using that power that Ryan got to know many a thing about the young knight, who had started to visit the Royal Palace regularly. Even with each new story or tidbit of information being revealed to him, the king never once approached the young man. Perhaps it was the deep-seated distrust in Ryan's heart, that made him incapable of starting a simple conversation. Then again the king wasn't known to make small talk with anyone. Anyhow, the young knight would most likely freeze up in fear or uncertainty, like anyone else Ryan ended up talking to. And it honestly would break the king's heart to be the cause of young Jeremy losing his fiery little spark.

In the end, Ryan's restraint turned out to be unnecessary anyway. Sir Jeremy Dooley ended up taking an instant disliking to the king and his _cruel_ and _harsh_ ways of dealing with his subjects. After a few weeks of watching and _not!_ stalking the young knight, Ryan, by using his powers of enhanced hearing, became the heartbroken witness of an antagonistic speech by the knight. It was at a simple ball being held in the Royal Palace, when Ryan while sitting on his throne, ended up hearing spiteful words that revealed to him the obvious disdain the travelling knight held towards him.

As soon as Sir Dooley had entered the ballroom and joined the large crowd of nobility, he instantly drew the king's Focus onto himself. The king kept his attention hidden behind his typical disinterested gaze and posture. Everyone knew that the king never left the throne during such events, more often than not he didn't even talk to anyone.

Sir Dooley ended up being surrounded by a group of avid and frolicking ladies and admirers that each tried to get his attention for themselves. Ryan could understand their enamourment with the small man. That did not lessen the spite he felt towards the boisterous crowd. He still listened to every word the young knight spouted, though.

The king's insides froze as soon as he grasped the direction the conversation took. Afterwards, he did not even remember every word that had left Sir Jeremy's lips. He would honestly rather forget all of them. The knight despised him. Sir Jeremy clearly believed each word the people said about the king. In the man's eyes, Ryan was the cruel and brutal Mad King everyone called him.

The knight never threw a single glance at him, yet he still spouted words of judgment against the king's behaviour. A terse king slouching on his throne while being entirely dismissive of his guests "makes it that much clearer, how unfit the king is to rule over these lands.“ Instinctively, Ryan straightened up and tried to look as majestic as he could, but the knight did not gift him with a single glance. The king didn't bother listening to the scared or agreeing answers of the group. He was used to them after all. But the fact that the one man he came to admire hated him so, struck deeper than anything else had in these last years. That night the king left the ball and retired earlier than ever before. If that ended up attesting the knight's beliefs than there certainly was nothing the king could do to correct Sir Jeremy's view.


	2. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did Sir Jeremy come to hate the Mad King?

Sir Jeremy Dooley did not feel particularly amazed on the day that he met the king of the Southern Lands. The knight arrived at the Royal Palace to introduce himself as a hireable knight.  
  
Between the united countries, it was common practice that young and yet inexperienced knights travelled around before they pledged themselves to any house of nobility. And while Jeremy was still young, he already had plenty of experience in both fighting and politics.  
  
Depending on which house a knight committed to, they had different duties. Knights were known to not only fight and protect but often to advice or handle their masters' accounting and trading businesses. Simply put, a good knight was a perfect mesh of brawn and brains.  
  
Knighthood was the perfect lifestyle for Sir Dooley. He kept down-to-earth by often insisting that he was not _that_ smart, but everyone who met him knew him to be incredibly alert. His muscle packed limbs easily spoke for his chance in any fight, and few resisted the young man's charm and humour.  
  
Since his youth, Jeremy longed to be a knight. He was loyal to a fault and sought adventures wherever he could. After a few years of training and studying, the royal court of his homeland officially proclaimed his knighthood. As soon as he could the now appointed Sir Dooley started his search for experience and a fitting house of nobility.  
  
A few years later he had made more than enough experience, and many houses had asked him for his pledge of loyalty. But for some reason, the young man was unable to find the right master. In the united countries, it was a knight's choice which house to chose. Sometimes knights never took an oath and just kept travelling around. It was not Jeremy's attention to keep being unbounded, but he found it incredibly difficult to choose a banner to serve.  
  
He met many nobles or people of a higher stand, but again and again, he found fault in every one of them. The young knight was ready and willing to give his life for a proper master. There was no way that he would just choose the first option. It often was the political stance the nobles took that caused him to dismiss them. Sadly enough, riches came with arrogance, and in the end, Jeremy was a simple farmers boy. He would never serve someone who treated his subjects poorly. Less often he just did not like the person offering him a house.  
  
Sir Dooley started feeling discouraged whether he would find the right lord or lady. He had met one king he could imagine serving. But though he saw eye to eye with King Geoff, he felt as if someone was out there, who truly needed him. Therefore the young man continued travelling.  
  
Visiting the Southern Lands was not his first choice. Though they were part of the united countries, the thick forests and stone plateaus were known to be different from the other kingdoms. Jeremy was not one to listen to rumours, but even he knew of the tales of the Mad King.  
  
At first, he dismissed them, after all even allianed countries kept up their rivalries. It was when he finally crossed the borders on his way to the Royal Palace that he noticed that even the locals whispered about the mysterious king.  
  
The palace was a few days travel away from the borders, and Jeremy ended up staying in small inns of secluded villages as well as in some of the bigger cities. And everywhere he went the talk about the Mad King greeted him. After a week the lad was quite fed up with it and started to question whether the people spoke the truth. If everyone from the simple farmer to the entitled noble kept murmuring about the wrath of the king, then perhaps some manner of truth lay in the rumours.  
  
And the rumours were not kind. The madness the people spoke of seemingly attuned to the number of people getting killed at the hands of the king. Did you step on the wrong side of the road? The king would cut off your legs. Did you try asking for a loan at the tax houses? You might get one copper coin for a finger. The tales of the torture the criminals and enemies of the king had to suffer through, almost made Jeremy pity them. Stories of gruesome and secret experiments reached the lad's ears. Evidently, the Mad King kept himself busy with the dark arts.  
  
When the young knight witnessed the cruelty the soldiers, under the banner of the king, committed to the citizens, he finally believed the tales.  
  
He almost turned around right then, wanting to leave this dreadful kingdom. But then he was struck by the thought that perhaps this was his destiny. Maybe his travels brought him here to save the people. He would never serve under the king, but perhaps he would encounter a like-minded noble he could assist at ending the terror reign of the king.  
  
Therefore, the lad completed his journey to the Royal Palace to officially put his name on the list for knights looking for a house of nobility in the Southern Lands. And he finally lay eyes on the Mad King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments and kudos to help beat my worst enemy writer's block into submission! And thank you very much for reading! Happy 2nd December!


	3. Inspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Ryan somehow has to live with the knight's hatred towards him. All the lies about what kind of person the Mad King is - does Ryan even stand a chance to purge them?

It had been a week since Ryan had to observe the undeniable disdain Sir Jeremy felt towards him for the first time. It _also_ had been a week since the king last saw the younger man. Ryan did not flat-out avoid the knight, which would be a difficult thing to do anyway, considering that Ryan was the king himself and that his presence was required in the throne room often enough. So even if he did harbour thoughts of hiding, he could not act on them, if he wanted to keep the meagre amount of respect his subjects had for him.  
  
Nonetheless, the knight did not show his face once. Keeping his enhanced sense open to his surroundings the king knew that the knight had not left, though. Quite the opposite in fact, since Sir Jeremy had taken to one of the many guest rooms that were open to the travelling knights. It was only the vicinity around the king the young knight seemed to shun. And knowing that the knight ventured to luxuriate in the guest rooms and meals, yet loathed being around the owner of the entire palace, hell, the whole country, himself, drove the sting of rejection even farther into the king's heart.  
  
Sitting on his hardwood armchair, Ryan sighed. Even knowing that the small knight hated him, he could not stop himself from cherishing Sir Dooley in the privacy of his mind. Enduring a one-sided attraction toward someone who would not return his affections in a billion years, was a fool's habit, that King Ryan felt unable to overcome solely because Sir Jeremy was a lovable guy regardless of his opinion on the king of the Southern Lands.   
For a moment the king dreamed about a life where his subjects loved him and where Sir Jeremy would not rebuff his offer to make him his knight. His knight.   
  
Gods, the sound of that alone brought an itch to the king's fingers. He was not a man to choose favourites. Excellent performance was praised and rewarded, while faulty practice did not get praise and a lesser reward. Only those subjects that definitely could not earn enough through labour because of sickness or age received leniency. But if the young knight were to serve under him, the king would be unable not to pamper him. Whether the strongest sword or the fluffiest pillows, the king would do anything to provide the perfect ground for the knight to grow on.  
  
The twitching of his hands caused the papers he held to rustle. Ryan sighed again. His mind was back in his harshly lit office. What use was there in dreaming, if the reality of his hopes was unchangeable?   
  
His tired gaze fell back onto the documents in his hands. Undone paperwork had already filled the entire morning, and the king felt like he barely had made any progress. His musings about the little knight did not help him, but neither did the constant risk of people manipulating important paperwork.   
  
Oh, how Ryan wished for one single loyal scribe. Just one additional pair of hands he did not have to oversee continuously, would reduce his workload by half. But the Mad King seemingly was not a king worthy of other people's trust or loyalty.   
  
Looking at the paper, Ryan realised that he already had read through the stack in his hands. They were untouched by scheming quills and only needed a single sign. Ah, the pure joy of not having to rewrite an entire prediscussed regulation that someone decided to alter in the hopes that it would go unnoticed at the king's inspection.   
  
Picking up his quill King Ryan set his signature at the bottom. One of the powers that came with the crown had been the somewhat ominous ability to make his final signs irrevocable. It came with blood magic. Not Ryan's favourite kind of magic, but it made sure that no one messed with the papers _after_ King Ryan had already signed them.   
  
To him, the ink always started out being red, before the paper soaked it up. Then it reappeared as the typical royal blue. Ryan was long since used to the little pricks of pain every signature caused him. Like needle pricks, the wounds stayed remarkably tiny and never bothered him later. What bothered him was the need to go to such lengths. He already was incapable of making sure that his subjects followed his verbal commands to the point.   
  
There were ways of course. As the beholder of the crown, he knew about the powers it granted its' owner and of his predecessor who failed at being responsible with said powers. Ryan never had and never would use his abilities to bring his subjects in line. If only they knew about it, though. If only Sir Jeremy knew about Ryan's decision, to keep being fair to his people. Maybe the knight would not be as disgusted by him as he was now.  
  
Another sigh and the gorgeous, yet unhappy man dropped the stack onto his large wooden desk. Even buried under many piles of books and papers the furniture spoke of the royalty its' owner portrayed. Shaking out his hand and playing with the frills at the end of his coat's sleeve, the king picked up the next pile. It was thicker than the one before because it addressed multiple issues at ones.  
  
"Requests for a position in the royal household," the king mumbled out loud. It was rather common that lists such as this one reached him. The coming and going of his staff were almost ridiculously. Just last month he had to replace three staff members because the former holders of their positions had suddenly turned their back on the king. "Let's hope not another one died," grumbled the king.  
  
The stack of paper included one list of momentarily open positions at the palace and then a bunch of inquiries. Seeing notes scribbled all around the portraits and data of the applicants, one of his advisors had seemingly felt the urge to vomit his own opinions all over the applications. Ryan sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. The crown was safe in a chest next to his feet.  
  
Of course, he had advisors and even gave them tasks, _sometimes_. But why did they have to put their sticky fingers and stupid noses all over his business? He **did** need this stack of paper. He had even asked for them to provided it regularly, but he was capable of choosing his household members by himself. Their constant resignation and deaths aside.   
  
Seeing the open positions for additional guards - and who even decided on adding more guards - King Ryan slowly skimmed through the applications. In the back of his head, he was still pondering who added four new guard positions to his official household. All thoughts left him when he reached the simplistic yet magnificent portrait of Sir Jeremy Dooley.  
  
The young knight applied for a position at Ryan's household? He hated him! He talked about him to others and complained about Ryan being unfit to be the king! Why did he want to guard him suddenly?   
  
The blonde king's mind was a mess of fluttering hope, returning shame and confusion. It was like all thoughts about the knight just erased Ryan's intellect. What was he to do? His free hand went up to his head again, ruffling the blond mane.   
What was the knight doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading chapter 3! Please leave a comment if you like. Or kudos! And enjoy your December!


	4. Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did Jeremy sign up to become a royal guard?

After he had been staying at the royal palace for a fortnight, Sir Jeremy understood that finding someone to assist in stopping the king's reign of terror was harder than it had seemed at first.  
  
While the knight met many of the king's opponents and enviers, he did not relate to any of them. Most of the nobility in the Southern Lands despised the king because they desired what he had. Power, luxury and plenty of treasures.   
  
Their campaigns might not have been against the Mad King himself, but the nobles Jeremy had met in the countries he travelled through had behaved similarly to the ones he met now. Even though any attentive observer could not help but notice the fear trembling underneath their political plays, the aristocrats still did everything they could to achieve their selfish goals. It baffled the young knight.   
  
They knew of the king's madness and the danger it entailed, but their greed and pride kept them in the lion's den regardless. They were blind to the people's suffering. Sir Dooley knew that not every human was kindhearted and caring, but the sheer egoism and carelessness those nobles displayed disgusted him beyond anything else ever did. If horrifying tales of torture could not move them, then those people were not that different from the king himself.  
  
The knight met many fearful nobles at the palace, too. He did feel less angered by them, but knowing how willingly they would sacrifice those beneath them just to escape the king's wrath themselves did little to bring them into his favour. Therefore, after those two weeks of cosying up to the nobility of the Southern Lands, Jeremy had yet to find any like-minded character.   
  
Disheartened, he turned in to one of the numerous inns near the royal palace. The building was located in a nearby village of craftsmen. Every single worker in the settlement was employed to further process different kinds of resources. Carpenter, blacksmiths, and the likes of them. They had established a somewhat prosperous village. Nonetheless, Jeremy could easily spot the mistreated workers who were solely used for their bodily strength.  
  
One of them was a young man introducing himself as Michael. At first glance, no one would suspect the red-haired lad to lead a miserable life. He was loud, aggressive, and at the same time well-spoken.   
  
Sir Jeremy was not blind, though. The muscles, completely devoided of all body fat, sat sunken in on the other lad's stomach, and his pale skin was littered in scar's that suggested not only unfair fights but even worse: corporal punishment. Just because of the boisterous lad stretching to call down the wench the knight got to see the signs of cruelty and misery on his companion's body when his thin shirt rode up to reveal the suffering body beneath.   
  
When nursing on his fifth pitcher of a rather disgusting beverage, the dismayed knight also got to witness a terribly sweet, yet sorrowful moment between his newest drinking companion and aforementioned maid.   
  
The woman's stomach was round with child, and if Jeremy had any say in it, he would have long since banned the maid from working. The child would likely be due any day now. Witnessing the affection his red-haired companion bestowed on the exhausted woman, Jeremy easily guessed who the soon-to-be-father was.   
  
Rubbing his hand multiple times over his shirt, Michael almost reverently laid it upon the woman's belly. Not once did the girl lose her sheepish, yet genuine smile. Even when from farther inside the inn an uncouth, male voice called for her attention.   
  
Michael twitched with the urge to scream back at the disrespectful act, but the woman desperately held onto his wrist upon her stomach whispering that another night in lock-up would only encourage people to plunder their home. The knight specifically read the word 'guards' on her chapped lips. After bestowing a rough yet long-lasting kiss upon her cheek, Michael set back down to drown himself in his own mug.  
  
After a bit of silence, the drunken worker noticed the smaller lad's questioning gaze. "What?" Michael grumbled and set down his pitcher with a loud, harsh bang. For a moment Jeremy stayed quiet, but then his eyes followed the wench's trail through the inn.   
  
A growl sounded from in front of him, and quickly he gazed back at his table neighbour. Michael's eyes were flashing in anger.   
  
"What?" he repeated furiously, "Got the hots for a pregnant woman now? Fair ladies and stable boys not doing it for you anymore, knight?" The way his title fell from Michael's lips made Jeremy cringe.  
  
"God, no, Michael," he swallowed a bit more of the lukewarm beverage in his hand, "I'm not here to get laid."  
  
Michael studied him for a moment, before dismissing him to look at the wench himself. His eyes had lost a bit of their fury.   
  
"Yeah, you better aren't, cause that one's mine, and I'm gonna kill you regardless of you being a freakin' knight, you hear me? You touch her; you're going down," he said without his eyes leaving the girl once, but Jeremy saw his dirty fists clenching upon the even dirtier table. The girl met Michael's gaze and smiled honestly for a second before her attention was demanded again.   
  
Trying to calm his companion further, the small knight relaxed back onto the table and turned his face completely towards Michael.  
  
"Don't worry, man, I can clearly see that she is gone on you. And even if she wasn't, I'm way too busy to charm a lass," he explained. "Even though I could totally beat you," he added after a moment. Michael's head turned sharply towards Jeremy. Both men stared at one another for a tense moment, then Michael smirked. "You wish, tiny man," he laughed.   
  
Jeremy furrowed his brows. "That's uncalled for!" he bellowed, but Michael only clapped his hand on the knight's shoulder, while laughing. Jeremy soon joined him with a few chuckles.  
  
When they had calmed down, the mood turned solemn again. This time Jeremy felt comfortable enough to investigate.   
  
"About what she said, your eh wife?"   
  
Michael shook his head, "I wish, got no money to make it official." Jeremy nodded sympathetically.   
  
"Well, your girl, she said something about the guards?"   
  
"You listened in on us?" Michael joked humourlessly. Jeremy shrugged, "I'm not a knight for nothing regardless of what you believe."   
  
The red-haired lad looked back at the still working wench. "You're not from here, right? You're from further north?" he asked, but Jeremy only nodded to encourage him to continue speaking. "Well, I don't freakin' know what the asshats are like down there, but here they are like bloody pest control without a pest, you understand me?"  
  
"They are corrupt is what you mean." This time Michael was the one to shrug. He swallowed another mouthful.   
  
"Can you call it corrupt when all of them do it?" he asked balefully, "It's not like we can just accuse them of doing stuff when we don't even know our own bloody laws," he explained further. Jeremy frowned.  
  
"What does that mean?" he asked confused. Michael stared at him.   
  
"We don't know our own laws. Nothing hard to understand about that," he bellowed. Jeremy felt foolish on principle under that stare.  
  
"So, like, you can't read the laws or what? I don't get it, Michael. Where I come from every change of rule gets announced by posters in every town and village." Michael laughed cruelly. "Yeah, right, as if his royal highness would ever waste a single shred of paper on us." Immediately the knight's mood went sour.  
  
"It's the mad king's fault, you say? Does he not inform his subjects of changes?" he asked, while disgust once more rose inside his belly. God, with each new story he despised the king more.  
  
"What do I care if he's mad or not," Michael sighed, "I never read a single law paper. The only way to know if you've done something illegal is when the guards already have their freakin' fingers up your arse." He thought for a moment, "If they tell you the reason for punishment at all that is." Jeremy stared at him.   
  
"How is that," he had to stop for a moment since a wave of righteous fury almost overwhelmed him, "how is that bloody fair?! There is no way of knowing whether you're safe or not?!"   
  
Michael folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against his chair, "Don't I know it."  
  
The small knight fumed. This information made everything he'd gathered on the king even more immoral. That madman did not give his subjects a single chance to defend themselves. He could randomly pick anyone off the streets and do whatever he wanted to them.  
  
"Why does no one stop him?!" Jeremy finally asked the question that haunted him since he had first started to believe the rumours and tales. Quickly Michael leaned towards him. Once again he was growling.   
  
"What, you think I wouldn't do everything I could if I stood the smallest chance to change things?" he spat out, "You're dead meat if you lift a single finger. And what are we supposed to do anyway with the guards being on the lookout for who knows what?" Jeremy lifted his hand and patted Michael's shoulder as the man had done to him before.   
  
"I am sorry, Michael. I am not angry at you." Another clap on his shoulder and Michael sat back again.   
  
"It just confuses me that no one even knows about the laws. I mean there have to be some. This country would not be part of the united countries, otherwise." Michael shrugged tiredly. Jeremy stared at him for a while.   
  
"What about the nobles?" he asked, "Do they know what`s up?" His companion only shrugged once more.   
  
"I don't know. Maybe it's like a special club, and you have to pay an entry fee," he joked. The knight frowned. Michael stopped laughing to look at him closely.   
  
"Wait, you actually think that's it?" he questioned baffled. Jeremy nodded slowly.   
  
"It's not like the guards are arresting everyone at the palace. And if any knights knew what was going on, then at least a few of them would have informed the other countries." Michael's eyes widened in astonishment.  
  
"Man, you're right!" he exclaimed while leaning close towards the shorter man. "That's it! There has to be a way to find more information on them. We just have to find a way into that freakin' group of asshats! And since you are a knight and all, it will properly be extremely easy for you."  
  
Jeremy's heart started to beat faster. This might be it. This might be the first step toward ending the king's reign. Why did he even think that he needed a noble man or woman to help him when the poorest were the biggest opponents to the king? His brain worked overtime. A grin stretched over his face.   
  
Leaning in even closer to Michael he revealed his idea, "Why even trying to cosy up to nobles if we can use the front door? The guards are the main source of the problem, so why not join them. I'm a travelling knight on the search of a place to stay. No one will question me trying to gather experience as a royal guard."   
  
With equally wide grins upon their faces, the men lifted up their pitchers to toast to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading and please consider leaving a comment or kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Leave comments and kudos if you like. Have a wonderful December!


End file.
